I went to pick up my car this morning, and the guy is remarkably sensitive to my grief. Mechanics, hair dressers, who else... Sandwich makers... Or maybe people innocently fall down a long hole when they ask me certain questions, such as the usually innocuous "how are you?" well, please let me respond that i'm all right. It so happened that i had to go to the mechanic on October 5, the day after the funeral. I had gone to Paul's that night and was still in my mourning clothes the next day. I opted to Resume Normalcy and change the oil... Well the mechanic knew my dad, so i filled him in. So, he knows. I can't fool him even tho he only works on my car. What chance do i have of fooling anyone else or myself.
I don't want to see this house go. Whatever respite from anxiety i have is being here. I worry less. I shouldn't (Oh really? Says my inner voice. Shouldn't you be?) worrying, but now that i recognize what it is, it's so intrusive. I'm so sick of it. But it doesn't stop. The Known Unknowns. For example, did you know you can open a Roth IRA todayyyyy and stick ten grand in? 5000 for 2010, which is behind us, and 5000 for 2011? April 15 is the cutoff for the 2010 contribution. What i don't know can cost me money and compound interest. If i don't know enough to formulate the questions, how can i hope to find out nuggets like that? I know i don't know plenty. It's like i'm 18 again, overwhelmed by all i don't know.
I feel like a 1 year old learning to walk. I feel jittery all day. I seek reassurance from people i shouldn't. What's any counselor's phone number. I feel exposed and vulnerable.
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